Our neighborhood streets were empty. City lights dimmed and pulled aside, like theater curtains, to reveal the evening. The night air was crystalline and soft with a warm Santa Ana breeze.The black and blue sky at ten rose overhead as a vaulted roof above the columns of trees lining the streets. Adjacent suburban yards shrank back behind their sheltering grass, gardens, fences, and flowers. The houses were to all appearances empty. No one passed before lights in living rooms. And no one came out to walk the streets with my dog and me. No cars passed us by. The quiet evoked meditation. Bear's nose was to the ground, but my eyes were on the stars. I was filled with gentle wonder. Tomorrow would be our birthdays. My daughter and I share birthdays. She was born on mine when I was twenty-eight years old. A portentous gift. From God? When I was young, I was an atheist and wouldn't have said, from God. But now, I find the word, the religious vocabulary, and religious feelings occur unbidden to me. A grand liturgy is needed to express the grandeur of life and love. Religious liturgy is the only repository of such devotional lyric. So began thirty-nine years ago life's journey of my daughter and me. Walking Bear in this cathedral scene, I was suffused with humble gratitude, that my daughter should have been born, and that I should have lived so long to share her love and life. It is more than luck. Happy Birthday!
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